What Would You Do If You Weren't Afraid?

I woke up on January 1st, 2020 after a knock-down, drag-out fight with my husband. A fight about what he believed was me being angry he “had to take a dump,” making us late for the opening of Hamilton on New Years Eve. Spoiler Alert, that wasn’t why I was upset. It was so many things, so many moments, so much neglect and loneliness that he never intended me to feel. It was carrying so much responsibility and decisiveness, wanting just one thing to make me feel like we were in this together – to feel like I wasn’t his parent.

There’s no one moment that leads you to change your life.

Or so I thought.

In true “New Year, New Me” fashion, I woke up on the first and decided to try a hot yoga class down the street from my house. There were only four people in the studio and they all looked fresh out of a Lululemon catalog – me, not so much. I spent the entire hour wheezing a little too loudly, taking breaks to chug water, pretending to “adjust” my leggings so I could breathe and trying not to fart while in weird positions like Warrior Squatting Tree Two.

The last ten minutes of the class were the hardest. The instructor asked us all to lay on our back, close our eyes and breathe. She said some of her greatest accomplishments come from a tradition she and her husband complete every New Year’s Eve. They make a fancy cocktail, sit in their living room and ask each other the same question, “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

She then challenged us to ask ourselves the same question.  

The first thought that came to mind was “I would get divorced.”

The next few weeks kept showing me signs that the fear from yoga class was a terrifying truth. That the D word we had thrown around during fights the last two years may be what we both really wanted - to be free of pretending our marriage was working.

I know couples who I’ve never seen touch – they’ve been together ten years and I haven’t seen them so much as hug. I’ve asked friends about their sex lives and some admit, they don’t have much of an interest. Those women would be grateful for a man with a good job, who loved them and was happy coexisting.

For some people that would be enough. But for me, it wasn’t. I don’t ever want to schedule sex for the first Tuesday of the month at 7pm, or have to drink a bottle of wine to be “in the mood,” or even worse, give up completely.

And with the void in our sex life came the lack of kissing, then a lack of affection, then a complete lack of enjoyment spending any time together. Before you knew it, we were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, sleeping on opposite sides of the bed and having mostly silent dinners. Our differences became an ocean between us. And that ocean turned to resentment. At least it did for me.

The following week I was set to go on a weekend girl’s trip to Kentucky. I was looking forward to escaping the constant conversations about couples’ therapy, awkward silent dinners and the thick resentment that hovered like ghosts in our house. But, sometimes the things you run away from chase even faster.

The friend I went to visit was in a similar situation. She and her husband weren’t as comfortable throwing around the word divorce over fights about taking too long to poop. They weren’t openly accepting the truth to one another that they lived in a passionless marriage. But, there was an awkward tension that was obvious to everyone who sat in the same room.  

As we went out for our husbandless ladies night, I saw my friend desperate to be noticed. I saw her look alive, wanting to be desired, hopeful to have someone actually act like they wanted her.

Watching this person I love look so deflated at home and so alive away from him made me realize, I was her. I went home that next day and told him I wanted a divorce.  

Some will say I’m selfish or that I don’t take marriage seriously. And at times, I will admit, I was selfish. The truth is, this divorce hurt me too, but what would hurt me more is if we were ten years down the road with two kids when I realized I needed someone to touch me and no one had in a decade.

And that’s the thing I’m learning – it’s not that one of us was good and the other was bad. Part of me will always love him. But, I got divorced so we could stop pretending we wanted the same things out of life. I got divorced so we could be happy.  

When they asked in court what the reason for the divorce was, my lawyer stated ‘irreconcilable differences.” It felt like the perfect explanation. How else do you explain you don’t want to lose this person, but there’s really no other option?

This year, New Year’s Eve looked a little different. I lay on the floor of my living room, alone, and asked myself that same question – “What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?”

This time, my answer was to write. But to do it honestly, candidly and full of passion.

Turns out I wasn’t meant for a passionless life.